"And… what do you want me to do?" Amara asked, her voice steady despite the turmoil rising inside her.
"You love me, Amara. Don't marry him," Max said, his gaze unwavering.
"I told you, you don't get to decide for me," Amara snapped. Anger trembled in her chest, so close to spilling into tears.
"Listen to me—" Max began, but Amara cut him off.
"Sir, you've had too much to drink. You should rest." She turned to walk away, but Max caught her hand.
"I'm not drunk, Amara," he said, his tone serious now.
"Let me go, sir."
"Why do you accept something like this?" he pressed, frustration edging his voice.
Amara's confusion deepened. "What do you want me to do? Why are you acting like this? Let go of my hand."
But Max didn't release her. His eyes locked on hers, desperate. If she left now, he knew he'd never see those eyes again. They had grown up together in the academy, and now everyone else had gone. Every time he tried to get closer, she pulled away, hiding behind her silence.
"Marry me," Max said suddenly, his words falling heavy between them.
Amara's eyes widened. It felt like a dream — or a cruel joke. "Marry you? What? No. No! What kind of ridiculous question is that? Give me one good reason. You don't even love me, Maxwell."
"You don't love him either," he shot back.
"But you love her," she countered.
"I don't love Sianna!" he snapped. "It's just the memories—the promises I made long ago. It's empty now." He took a step closer. "But I know you love me, Amara."
"What an egotistical answer," she spat, locking eyes with him.
"Marry me," Max said again, his voice low and urgent.
"Enough, Maxwell!" she cried, trying to pull away.
But his grip only tightened. "Marry me," he repeated.
"You only want to use me! Why would I marry someone like you?" Amara shouted, anger cracking her voice.
Max's expression twisted with guilt and longing. "Then use me, Amara," he whispered.
"What does that even mean?!" she asked, exasperated. "I said let me go!"
"No," Maxwell said quietly.
"You don't love me! I know that!" Amara yelled.
"You don't know anything," he said, stepping closer.
His gaze dropped to her lips. Amara's heart pounded. "Don't you dare!" she warned.
But Max didn't stop. He leaned in and kissed her. It wasn't passionate—it was soft, trembling, a plea. When he pulled back, his voice was almost a whisper.
"I told you… use me."
Amara's breath caught.
"Use me," he repeated.
Her mind went blank. She couldn't move, couldn't think.
Max released her hand, then dropped to one knee before her. "Will you marry me?" he asked, his voice steady now, eyes searching hers.
Amara stared at him, stunned. Maybe he was running—from his pain, from his lover. Maybe he wanted revenge. Maybe she could run too—escape her family, her cage. But at what cost?
"This isn't right," Amara said quietly.
"Will you marry me?" Max asked again.
"Enough! You can't just—"
"Will you marry me?" he interrupted, softer this time.
Amara met his eyes, lost in them. Her lips trembled.
"Yes," she breathed before she could stop herself. "I will marry you."
The word hung between them—unreal, heavy, final.
Max smiled faintly and reached for her hand. As soon as their fingers touched, everything went white.
"What?" Amara gasped, the world dissolving around her. "Max? Max!"
She was falling through silence, through light. Then—nothing.
When she opened her eyes, she was standing in a void.
"Where am I?" she whispered.
Then it hit her—the memory. This spell. These words.
"I can't believe this… I was under his spell," she said, tears spilling down her cheeks. "He found me again. After all these years."
Her voice shook. "Is this revenge, Max? Why now? You took everything from me—my life, my freedom. Twice."
Her tears fell harder. "Why are you doing this to me?"
Her voice echoed into the empty white, fading into silence.